The 3 Amigos

Jude and his best buddies waiting to perform their Christmas ballet dance.

Yes, my kid takes ballet at school. Don't be a hater!

My Little Piece of Sunshine

...Jude.

Our Tejas Tri Experience- Part 4

***Sorry for the delay! I've been in a tamale coma for the past 2 days!

Back to the story:

I get on land and fix the damn timing strap on my ankle. I race to my stuff in transition and hunt through my giant bag for a shirt I had not planned on wearing. The shirt is in the very bottom of my gigantic bag, and under all kinds of useless crap. I put it on, but my helmet is already on. Shit!

I get on the bike. I'm getting passed like a little girl on training wheels. Shit! Even the fat girls are passing me on the bike (and by fat girls, I’m talking about the two hundred and fifty pounders who are all wearing tight spandex tri suits). Will this ever end, I ask myself? Then, I see BJ ahead of me by a few minutes. I am hopeful again. Seeing BJ has given me the hope I need to complete the race. She's safe. I'm safe. Husband is alive. Everything is okay again.

I finish the bike portion of the race. I get off the bike completely drenched in sweat. The shirt is hot and, thankfully, my boobs are still contained. I take the shirt off and head for the run.

I start running and one lady passes me. You are a marathoner; you can do this; beat her, I tell myself. You can beat all the fat girls that beat you on the bike, I tell myself. And, I do. I start passing the fat chicks. The race is almost over. I can hear the roar of the crowd as people finish. Thanks God! I turn the corner and kick it into gear. I finish strong! I'm alive-not injured. All is right with the world.

My first open water triathlon is over, and I didn't drown or crash on the bike. I'm so happy to be done.

Ten minutes later, I want a redo. I ask Husband when and where is our next race.

Then, it’s time for us to go back to BJ’s house and get ready for my friend's wedding at noon.

Tamale Coma

Will someone please come to my apartment and take my tamales away? I can't stop eating them, and my gut is about to explode.

Shit! I think I'm addicted to tamales. Help me stop the insanity! Please. Help.

Our Tejas Tri Experience- Part Tres

Please read Part Uno and Part Dos first. Thanks.

The story continues:

Now it's my turn to get into the water. I'm okay, I tell myself, still thinking about the busted zipper barely holding my tri-suit together. I have a shirt in my bag and will get it after the swim just in case my zipper decides to bust again while I'm on the bike or on the run. I feel better knowing I have a shirt.

I get into the water. The gun goes off. I start swimming strong. The girls in front of me are slow. I start swimming on top of a few, and I'm doing great. My zipper is holding, and I'm mowing over the slow swimmers. I kick and fight my way to the front of the swimming pack. Then all of a sudden, I feel my ankle strap (timing chip) come loose. I stop mid-stroke to fix it. I can't touch bottom. The girls I just swam over are coming at me, and I'm about to lose my timing chip and strap. I can't tread water and fix the strap at the same time. I swim out of the way and attempt to fix the damn strap as best I can. I think about swimming over to the life guards in canoes and asking for help, but I'm afraid I'll be disqualified. I try to fix it for what seems like hours.

I fix it as best I can. If I don't kick, maybe it won't come off, I tell myself. So, I pull myself through the lake- no kicking, just pulling through the water. I'm okay, but not good. First the zipper, now the damn timing chip. I'm done. I want to stop and cry. I want to give up, go home, and forget this day and this race. I just want to cry. Nothing is going as planned. But I just can’t stop. The voices in my head won’t let me give up. I have to keep going.

Finally, I finish the swim. It was awful. My time was awful, but I didn't quit…

Part 4 will be posted tomorrow.

Our Tejas Tri Experience- Part Dos

The start of the triathlon race.

Please read Part Uno before you read Part Dos.

Thus, the story continues.

We walk back to the start of the race (the swim) in hopes of catching Husband’s start. I'm still freaking out! I can't get the busted zipper out of my head.

Husband hops into the lake, and his part of the race starts. He's in the back of the 35-40 year old pack. He does great! Five minutes later the next group starts, and so on. Husband swims strong for 3 whole minutes and then totally freaks out. He can't get a good rhythm and is struggling like a dying fish. He looks to his right, and behold- a man standing. Is it Jesus walking on water? No! It's just another struggling swimmer who has found a shallow spot near the edge of the lake. Husband stops and joins him. Husband takes a break for about a minute or so. He, too, has lost his Mo-Jo! He starts swimming again, and the next age group is starting to pass him.

Meanwhile, I'm at the start (at the edge of the lake), hoping to see Husband. Minutes pass and still no sign of Husband. Now, I'm really scared. I'm scared for Husband-- scared about the zipper. Fifteen minutes pass, and still no sign of Husband. A few people are coming out of the water because they have lost their timing chips and bands during the swim. They have to get new chips. But I am consumed with fear for my poor, helpless husband who has obviously drowned and is now at the bottom of the lake. Only a few yellow caps (Husband’s age group) remain in the water. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND? I'm shaking with fear! Finally, I see him coming out of the water. All is right with the world again, except for the damn zipper...

Part Tres will be posted tomorrow.

Our Tejas Tri Experience, a play-by-play account- Part Uno

(This is the tri-suit I wore for the race.)

Some of you have already heard this, but it's worth telling again. This occurred a couple of years ago.

This is a play-by-play account of our triathlon experience. (Since it's really long, I'll post it in parts. Enjoy!)

Thus, the story begins.

We woke up bright and early at 4 AM. The triathlon was about 20 miles south of BJ’s house, and we wanted to make sure to have enough time to get there and set up our gear. And, Houston has horrible traffic. So, we get there, and the parking lot is full. We park at a local grocery store and ride our bikes to the start/set up area. We feel good, full of energy and ready to tackle the day. All of our bowels have been emptied, and we hydrated in the car on the way. (Of course, I had to make a pit stop along the way in a parking lot- nothing new!) Everything is going as planned. We set up our equipment. I copy the girl next to me in hopes that she has done it right. I don't want to appear to be a newbie in front of the hard core chicks.

We get our timing chips and band- no line. Husband attaches the timing chip to the strap and then to my ankle. Since I'm so small, the strap is attached but hanging on by an inch or 2 of weak Velcro.

Husband heads to the start. He's in the first group.

I have to pee again. BJ and I head to the port-o-pots. We wait in line. I go. As I'm pulling up my tri-suit and pulling up the zipper, the zipper busts! That's right, the zipper busts! I call for BJ who was in the port-o-pot next to me, no answer. I call for here again, still no answer. I walk out of the port-o-pot attempting to keep my boobs under wraps, but they have other plans! (Keep in mind, I have nothing on under my tri-suit. NOTHING!) I hear a girl say, "Her suit has busted, that sucks!" I want to cry! I see BJ. HELP ME, BJ! With calm, soothing words BJ says, "We can fix this- everything is okay." I am about to cry. My Mo-Jo is gone. BJ attempts several times to fix the zipper and finally she gets it up. It is uneven, but up. Now, I'm shaking. I still want to cry, but the look in BJ’s calm eyes averts the tears. All I can think about is my suit busting open on the swim or on the bike or on the run. BJ reassures me that everything is okay. "You'll be fine," she says, and I believe her. She says it in a way that only a best friend can.

You'll have to wait until tomorrow for Part Dos.

I could be done

During last week's 17 mile run, at exactly mile 15.5, I experienced a stabbing pain in my knee. It started in my upper, outer thigh and then went directly to my outer knee. Each step was painful, like someone jabbing a needle directly into my knee. However, when I stopped running, the pain stopped. So, I walked/ran the last 1.5 miles in agony.

Courtesy of the Internet, I have diagnosed myself with IT band tendinitis. I've had this running injury before, back in 2003 when I attempted to run my first marathon. It's an overuse injury that just requires stretching, icing and rest, something I can't really do because I'm in the most important month of marathon training.

So, some decisions must be made and soon.

I refuse to run a marathon with an injury. That's just dumb, and I don't want to cause serious or permanent injury to my knee just to run another marathon. Remember, I've already successfully completed 2 marathons. I don't have anything to prove to anyone. I know I can do it.

So, the questions are: will my knee get better in time for the marathon, and can I run a marathon without training properly?

When I find out the answers to these questions, I'll let you know.

I am the ultimate Survivor Champion

Okay, those useless people on the CBS reality show could never survive this:

1. a five year old with H1N1 Influenza;
2. getting puked on several times by said five year old;
3. stuck in a small apartment with Limpy (YaYa), and Gimpy (PoPo) for 2 long weeks;
4. stuck in a small apartment with Limpy, Gimpy and SISTER for 2 very long weeks;
5. making over 150 tamales;
6. eating said tamales;
7. co-habitating with Husband, Jude, Limpy, Gimpy and SISTER in an apartment the size of a shoe box;
8. getting coughed and sneezed on by Limpy (YaYa caught a cold while she was here visiting);
9. running 14.5 miles; and
10. running 17 miles a week later.

Yep, I would like to see those pansy-ass people on Survivor survive this!

3 Generations of Crazy

During YaYa, PoPo and Sister's visit, we took time out of our busy schedule to have some family photos taken. This is the result:

Even though Jude was VERY uncooperative, we still managed to get a few great pictures.